


Mod

by yeaka



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Animal Traits, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-03
Updated: 2014-11-03
Packaged: 2018-02-23 22:01:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2557250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Severus’ modifications to the wolfsbane potion result in some side effects.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mod

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This isn’t properly British.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any of its contents, and I'm not making any money off this.

If he could, he’d stay in the bedroom all day, staring intently at his patient for any sign of change. 

But he doesn’t live in a world that simple. It’s nearing the new term, and he has ingredients to sort, assignment lists to record, potions to finish that require immediate attention, and he knows he keeps his lover up. What Remus needs right now is _rest_ : lots and lots of it. Even if Severus’ latest alterations to the wolfsbane potion prove effective, Severus prefers to be safe rather than sorry. It seems best for both of them to keep his werewolf unconscious during the full moon.

It used to be because the thought of having a werewolf anywhere near him _still_ sends a shiver up his spine. But now, he can’t stand to see Remus in pain. He’s been working on the wolfsbane, trying to weed out as many after-effects as possible. He knows what he’s doing. His brewing skills are unparalleled. But there’s always that _chance_ something could go wrong, and by dinnertime, Severus decides that Remus has had enough uninterrupted sleep. 

He loads a tray with simple things: orange juice and porridge. Not typical dinner fare, but easy enough to get down. Remus hasn’t eaten all day and hasn’t wrung the bell linked to Severus’ study to alert him to bring any. Part of Severus can’t help but think it’s best to keep a werewolf below full strength at times like this, but the rest of him is worried for the man he’s come to love. 

He backs into the door, shouldering it open while his hands grip the edge of the tray. He left Remus sleeping unusually soundly, and that’s what he still hopes to find. 

He’s halfway to the bed before he realizes that there’s a little more to it than that. Remus, though still curled up in the blankets and clearly lost in a dream, isn’t at all the way Severus left him. Hardening his expression—there had to be side effects, of course; new potions are never seamless—he crosses the floor. He sets the tray on the nightstand and pulls his wand out of his robe long enough for a light flick that creaks the long, moss green curtains open. It casts a shallow sliver of light over Remus’ skin, a much healthier pigment than the usual sallow sadness the full moon tosses it into. The full moon used to be the only time that Severus thought them evenly matched aesthetically. But now, Remus is as beautiful as ever. 

And Remus has two large, pointed fuzzy ears, not unlike a wolf’s. They’re higher on his head than his regular ears should be, and one twitches as Severus’ hand approaches it. Hesitating, Severus moves for the blanket instead; he lifts it up and peers below. Curled around Remus’ body, draped in Severus’ hand-me-down pajamas, is a large, fluffy brown tail to match. It flicks expectantly. Severus drops the blanket and reaches for Remus’ curled-up hands, nestled next to the pillow. He lets out a sigh of relief when nudging open Remus’ fingers doesn’t reveal any claws. 

He puts his palm against Remus’ cheek anyway and gently lifts the corner of Remus’ lips. The teeth he finds are still human enough, but the farthest one is just ever so slightly pointed and curved like a fang. 

They couldn’t gnaw through bone. Meat, definitely, but Remus has always been surprisingly carnivorous. Struggling to stifle old Hogwarts memories, Severus runs his hand down Remus’ arm, squeezing to establish muscle. But everything he finds beyond ears and tail and those little fangs is just regular _Remus_ , which is promising. Even if the beast mentality came through with the animal features, Severus can handle Remus’ mostly-human body. He won’t be in danger of being torn to shreds. Not like...

He shakes his head and tells himself to _stop it_ ; he gave that up when he took Remus back. He can’t ever forget, and he’ll always be cautious, but he can and he has forgiven.

He gently strokes Remus’ cheek while he ponders whether to wake such a peaceful-looking angel-demon, and in the end, he decides it isn’t good to go so long without food. Remus is skinny enough. Severus still braces himself as he takes hold of Remus’ shoulder, ready to slam his beast of a boyfriend back down at any second. He gives Remus the gentlest of shakes and murmurs, “Remus...” But that doesn’t seem to get him anywhere beyond Remus’ new ears twitching, so he shakes harder and grumbles, “Lupin.”

Remus’ eyes dart open to yellow slits, blink furiously under the dull light, and then open wide. Their colouring is all wrong, but Severus can still see _Remus_ through them, and it helps him regain normal breathing. Remus twists his head to look up at Severus, then pulls into a wide grin. 

“What happened to you?”

“What?” Remus blinks and readjusts his position, kicking under the blankets; Severus can see the bulge where his tail’s moving. Around a languid yawn, Remus sighs, “What’s happened?”

Because it’s instinct to be cold, particularly to cheeky marauders who may or may not be playing dumb, Severus glares. He struggles to push it back—now’s not the time, this is serious—and reaches out to pinch the tip of Remus’ ear. Remus winces and mumbles, “Oh, those.” Then he yawns again, stretches out his arms around Severus’ knees, and says, “I don’t know. They came in around midday or so. I woke up for a time, but you weren’t around and I was stiff and sore, so I drifted back off... I assumed they were something to do with those modifications you made.” Here he pauses to grin impossibly wider, exposing the miniature fangs on both sides. “I feel so much better, by the way. Than how I usually would, I mean. It doesn’t hurt like it always does. _Thank you._.” He says that every month, and every month it looks gut-wrenchingly sincere.

Severus just hopes his cheeks aren’t flushed as Remus so irritatingly tends to make them. (But it is _good_ to see him smile like this, at this time, to look bright and young instead of old and haggard and haunted.) “ _That_ it was supposed to do. The wolf parts, not so much.”

Remus frowns. “And you don’t like them.”

Of course not. If Severus were a better boyfriend, he’d probably say something stupid like _I like you_ to show that it doesn’t matter. But he already knows he’s not, so he doesn’t. Instead, he turns for the tray and grumbles, “Hopefully they’ll mutate back after the lycanthropy’s run its natural course.” A hand lands on top of his and sets his back down. The tray makes a light clattering noise against the wood.

“I’m not hungry.” Severus looks back, ready to give a lecture, but Remus adds, “...Not for that, anyway.” And he’s got that burning look in his eyes that means he wants something, but he doesn’t want to bother Severus when Severus always makes mountains out of molehills. Severus is frowning, but he always is. 

Remus pulls the hand back to Severus’ lap, squeezes Severus’ knee through the black fabric and asks, “Are they... are they that bad?”

Severus opens his mouth to say ‘no,’ but ends up just sighing and shaking his head. He says too stiffly, “It’s fine.” He makes himself look Remus in the too-yellow eyes. The bags that often hang below are gone. He still has the crinkles at the edges of his eyes, but he doesn’t look so burdened as usual. Again, Severus is brought back to the days when they were young, but this round he thinks of the good times, of Remus smiling and carefree. Or as carefree as a werewolf could ever be. 

Then Severus realizes what Remus is getting at, and his frown deepens. Remus dons a mischievous expression. He slides his hand up from Severus’ knee, gliding over Severus’ thigh, and he mumbles, “I like the way you smell.”

Severus doesn’t wear cologne at home. He’s been down in the foggy, humid depths of his lab for half the day, the dusty, stagnant study for the rest. He can’t smell good, but then, Remus has never been particularly orthodox. 

Remus pushes up onto his elbow and insists, “No, I _love_ your scent... it hammers home that you’re my mate... I can smell myself on you, too...” He shivers, eyes sliding shut in a blissful thought, then sighs, “I wish you didn’t mind my wolf side...”

How could he not? But Severus knows better than to drudge up the past. He’s long since accepted that it was never Remus’ fault anyway. But when Remus’ eyes open again, they’re pleading, and if Severus had any fewer shields, he’d melt. 

He does desire Remus. No matter how old they get, no matter how tired they become. He’s wanted Remus for a very, very long time, and he knows the emotion runs so much deeper than that. Something in his expression must be slipping, because Remus shakily rises up. Even sitting up can be hard when the transformation strikes, but the new wolfsbane’s done its job, and Remus manages. He pets Severus’ thigh and reaches for Severus’ arm with his other hand, and he leans in to purr, “You’re _such_ a good mate.”

Severus is no such thing. He turns his head away when Remus tries to lick him, winding up with his cheek instead of his nose. Remus makes a cooing noise and nuzzles into Severus’ face anyway, brushing long, black strands behind Severus’ ear. Disgruntled, Severus says, “You’re still acting like a wolf. Obviously, the potion needs some work.”

“I’m sorry.” For a moment, he sounds so sad, and Severus wants to say it’s not Remus’ fault, but then Remus is rolling on, “But I do feel better. _So_ much better. Merlin, Severus, you have no idea how much it’s supposed to hurt. And now I just feel... feel...” His breath hitches. Then he grits his teeth and growls right into Severus’ ear. “ _I want you._ I’m not dangerous like this, I promise, but Merlin, do I want you... I have all this _energy_ and _longing_ , and I thought about getting out of bed, but I can’t run around outside like this, and then I thought of you, and...” He breaks off in a heated moan that slithers straight through Severus’ skin and shoots down his body. Remus’ hand is just centimeters from his crotch, and Remus laps at his jaw. There’s the faint hint of scratch along Remus’ chin: little brown hairs too small to be visible. He shaved this morning. But the wolf always grows it. 

Severus forces himself to say, “You’re not feeling well.” It wouldn’t be smart. Not at this time; they’re never... active... during this time. ...There have been nights were Severus has laid awake with him, stroked his hair and told him things will be alright, soothing things that seem so against Severus’ very nature, but not like what Remus is asking. Remus makes a frustrated noise, and Severus insists, “You should rest...”

“I’ve been resting all day.” Remus’ head tilts back, and this time his teeth run along the line of Severus’ jaw, and Severus shivers, grateful that most of them are still blunt. Remus’ one hand slides up Severus’ shoulder, moves to cup the back of his neck, fingers threading through his hair. The other hand slides that last little bit up, palm pressing into Severus’ crotch, and suddenly, he feels naked. He’s covered from head to toe, always is, in a high-neck button-up and dress trousers, but Remus takes him apart all the same. Remus gently tugs at the back of his robes, kisses his cheek and growls into his ear, “Severus, _please_ , breed me...”

There’s a lump in Severus’ throat. He snaps, “I don’t have an animal fetish.” Remus gets the robes down; they topple to the bedspread and tumble over the edge and onto the floor. Remus shifts closer, legs peeking out from under the blankets. Severus has a sharp intake of breath, and then Remus is practically in his lap, too big for that and too heavy but oh so alluring. Remus kisses his way to the other side of Severus’ face, and even as Severus tries to turn away, he knows he’s giving in. His only reason to refuse is Remus’ health, but it’s true that there doesn’t seem to be anything under-the-weather about his newly transformed boyfriend. By the time Remus starts grinding his hips into Severus’, Severus is physically shoving him off and grumbling, “ _Fine._ ”

Remus has that annoyingly smug and gorgeous grin on his face that he always has when he gets his way. But he goes where Severus shoves him. Then he turns, facing the end of the bed, and crawls forward onto all fours. He settles atop the blankets, and for the first time, Severus gets a proper look at his tail. In the little, dying light there is through the gap in the curtains, Severus can see exactly where the fur dies off into Remus’ skin, right where his tailbone would be. Of course. It wags in the air like an eager puppy’s while Remus reaches back to grab the hem of his pajama bottoms. 

He pushes them down and leans forward on his elbows, spreading his legs and moaning, “ _Severus_ , please mount me.” He sounds like some horny teenager, and if Severus weren’t so incredibly turned on, he’d scold Remus for the juvenile language. 

Instead, he stares at the ripe curve of Remus’ ass and the moist line between his cheeks, running down to his balls and hanging cock. When Remus wiggles his ass, his hard length swings back and forth, and Severus has to take a moment to adjust to the view; suddenly, his full-length black clothes seem a poor choice. They’re too hot. Severus licks his lips and pulls his legs up onto the bed, shifting over for a better angle, a better view. Remus seems to be leaking, and when he leans forward, he recognizes the pine sent of Remus’ favourite lube. 

He lifts an eyebrow, and Remus, watching over his shoulder, says with a knowing smirk, “I... might’ve played a bit with myself during that time I woke up. ...Thinking only of you, of course.” He has the nerve to wink. Severus doesn’t trust himself to say anything. 

He’s glad Remus is already prepared, because with this level of begging, he’s not sure how long he’d want to wait on preparation. Severus’ pants are thoroughly tented, only made worse every time Remus wiggles his ass. Even with that tail... well, there is something to be said for it. Its constant twitching betrays how very eager Remus is, and if there’s one thing Severus is secretly starving for, it’s being wanted. 

Remus always claims to want him. Sometimes, Severus still isn’t sure he can believe it. But he isn’t going to question it now, not with Remus’ ass exposed to him, pajamas pulled down to his knees and legs spread as much as those bottoms will allow. The hunger in Remus’ eyes is undeniable as he watches Severus undo his trousers, just enough to pull himself out, otherwise still as dressed and dignified as possible. Remus has the nerve to lick his lips—and his fangs—and wag his tail harder. 

Severus grabs it in the hand not already pumping his dry shaft. Remus winces and hisses, so Severus is more careful as he pushes the fluffy monstrosity back over Remus’ waist, as out of the way as possible. It flicks once, but stays out of the way. 

Severus, just to make sure, orders, “You’ll use your safeword if you start to feel ill.”

Remus snorts. He’s never once used the safeword Severus forcibly assigned to him, and he probably won’t start now. But Severus gives him a stern look all the same; this is serious, and as cruel as the world might think Severus Snape, he would never hurt the man he loves, not when the full moon’s already broken Remus down. 

Remus just purrs, “All I feel is empty, and I’m thinking you’re about to fix that.” Any other day, Severus would slap his ass for such impertinence. 

Instead, Severus pushes the head of his cock between Remus’ taut cheeks. It already feels good, warm and wet, and Severus follows the messy trail of lube down to Remus’ puckered hole, usually so tight but clearly already coaxed open. Maybe not as much as it should be for this, but Remus probably took at least three fingers not that long ago. He usually goes to four. That’s a good thing. If Remus is well enough to masturbate so thoroughly, sex can’t be that much more strenuous. Severus won’t be rough, not now. And the image in his head of his precious Remus, writhing around under the covers and shoving fingers inside himself...

Severus groans as he shoves forward, the head of his cock popping inside, and Remus gasps, body already arching. Severus darts a hand to his spine to hold him still, the other steadying on Remus’ hip, and Severus starts to push forward. He’s ready to withdraw at the first sign of discomfort, but all Remus does is moan and try to push back onto him, something that makes Severus more pleased than he’d ever admit. Halfway through, he has to piston himself in rather than shove, rolling his hips in short in-and-out motions that feel torturously good. Remus’ ass is _tight_ , even after the recent use, always is, and it’s stifling hot, velvet-soft and full of cloying pressure. Severus is instantly glad he gave into this. He couldn’t have said no, not really. Remus just feels so _perfect_ , and by the time Severus is fully inside, he’s nearly panting. 

Remus tries to push back onto him but is already fully impaled. Severus strokes his hip like a horse and mutters, “Okay?”

“You feel so _good_ ,” Remus moans. There’s a crack in his voice, something nearly a growl, ferocious and wanting. His ears have flattened against his head, and from this angle, mixed amid his soft hair, they’re almost... cute. But Remus is always bordering cute. And Severus doesn’t want to think that, not of a werewolf, so he distracts himself by sliding half out. The second he stabs back in, Remus gasps in delight. 

And Severus _loves that sound_ , so he does it again. He pulls half out, shoves all the way in, so much harder and faster than he meant to. He meant to be gentle. But it’s hard, always hard, when Remus is like this, aching for it and rocking back into it. When Severus slams forward, Remus meets him halfway, ass eager to swallow up Severus’ engorged cock. Remus’ ass claws at him, clenches tight and tries to hold on, and he knows Remus is doing it on purpose; Remus is perfect. His ass is heaven. Severus works into a steady rhythm of pounding him forward, and Remus takes every hit with a blissful noise and a non-verbal plea for more. Severus doesn’t even touch him, not yet, and he’s clearly _loving it_.

He starts moaning, “ _Severus_ ,” breathlessly and over and over, and Merlin, that’s all Severus ever wanted to hear. Maybe a small part of him is glad Remus is a wolf; that Remus doesn’t just date, he _mates_ , and no matter what form he’s in, he recognizes that Severus is that partner for him. 

When he tries to push up onto his hands, straightening to all fours, Severus lunges forward, driven on instinct. He flattens himself along Remus’ back, even though the tail is squished against his stomach and their clothes are too much and too hot between them. He wraps his arms around Remus’ middle anyway, uses one to hold Remus up and the other to run down Remus’ stomach. Remus makes a needy noise, and Severus doesn’t stop humping him, fucking him. As soon as Severus has his hand around Remus’ hard cock, Remus screams. 

Everything feels right. Remus’ cock pulses in his hand, long and thick and perfect, and Remus’ ass convulses around him: overwhelming ecstasy. Remus seems to be too busy panting and moaning and screaming for kisses, but Severus leans over his shoulder to peck him anyway, bite into his cheek and nuzzle into the crook of his shoulder. Remus’ skull leans back against him, and Remus moans between useless please, “Severus, love you so much...”

Severus isn’t there yet. Not quite. But he’s close. So close. He pumps Remus furiously; he doesn’t want this pleasure alone. He doesn’t even stop for his usual tricks, doesn’t play with the foreskin or tease Remus’ slit or tug Remus’ balls, just corkscrews and jerks Remus’ shaft hard and fast. He can feel Remus’ tail trembling along his stomach. Remus is reduced to animal noises. Severus holds him so tightly that it’s a wonder either of them can breathe, and he fucks Remus’ ass so hard that his buried conscience is worried he’ll do permanent damage, but he can’t stop, it’s like Remus’ pheromones are driving him crazy, he’s feverish with lust and Remus just feels so amazingly _right_ —

He comes with a roar, squeezing Remus desperately and grinding forward, filling Remus up. It doesn’t even occur to him to pull out, although Remus often has so much fun with ‘marking.’ Right now, he just wants his mate to be filled with his seed, and he milks himself inside Remus tight ass, pausing for only a fraction of a second before continuing to pleasure Remus’ cock. 

Remus comes before Severus is done. He splatters Severus’ hand and the blankets, arches up and throws his head as far back as possible, howling more like a wild beast than a man. For once, it doesn’t unnerve Severus, probably because he’s too busy coming down. 

He pulls out when Remus quiets, and he sees the cringe in Remus’ shoulders, followed by a needy whine. But he only collapses in the sheets besides Remus, not at all going far. 

Remus, still balanced on all fours, looks hazily down at Severus, pupils devouring most of his irises. 

Severus belatedly mumbles, “I love you, too.” But he keeps it very quiet and probably looks too serious. 

Remus just grins. Then he collapses. He falls half onto Severus’ side, throws an arm around Severus’ middle, snuggles up and purrs, “I love you. I do.” He nuzzles into Severus’ face, while Severus wrinkles his nose and pretends he doesn’t like it. They’re both still hanging out of their pants, but now’s not the time to care. “...And I think I like your new modifications, too.”

Frowning, Severus says, “I’ll try again next month. Obviously, there’s still work to do.”

Remus is smiling. Thought it looks like he disagrees, he knows better than to fight it. Potions are Severus’ life, or were before Remus, even if they weren’t his first choice. He doesn’t mind modifying existing concoctions for the better; he’s been upgrading recipes all his life. ...But at least this recipe will serve as a decent back up, and hopefully, if he can help it, Remus will never be ill again. 

For now, Remus looks impossibly content, and he shuts his eyes, leans his head against Severus’ chest, and drifts back to sleep.


End file.
